Hot Cooking Spanker Wanted (5 page)

I
searched for a clock as I sat up. I jumped to my feet then. The pain
was a stinging pain. Like being slapped on a sunburn but much worse.
I wanted to go home now. I needed to have a good cry in private where
I could feel sorry for myself.

Ryan
came in and smiled at me like he always did. I took an involuntary
step back away from him. I now had no problem imagining him hitting
me. He was more than capable of that. I felt tears running down my
face.

“
It's
over. You don't have to be afraid of me. I cooked us something to
eat. I hope you're hungry. I think I made too much.” He was
motioning me to come into the kitchen with him.

I
couldn't even imagine sitting down with him at the table. I couldn't
even imagine sitting down at all.

I
shook my head. I looked for my shoes and purse. He had had enough
time to go through my purse. It didn't look any different, but still
this could be on internet already. He had even had enough time to
take pictures of my spanked bottom and post them on the web.

I
slipped out the door without a word to him. I was digging through my
purse looking for my keys when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was
him. He turned me towards him and hugged me.

“
I'm
sorry you can't stay. Drive carefully and take good care of yourself
this week. I'll see you next week at the same time.”

My
eyes must have been huge in fear because he actually looked a little
guilty.

“
Um
– I don't think so. I have to go now.” I started looking for my
keys again. He watched me as I looked and dug around, wadding the way
through the junk in my purse. He looked ready to grab my purse and
start searching himself.

“
Did
you lay your keys down somewhere else? Should I go look?” he
offered.

I
had to wonder if he took them. I stifled a yawn as best I could but
then I had my keys. I turned to my car to unlock it but he laid his
hand over the lock. I then pushed the button unlocking the car.

He
laughed a little. “Please, join me for a bite to eat. I have a bad
feeling about sending you off as tired as you are. I promise I don't
think any worse of you.”

What
he didn't understand was, that I thought worse of him.

“
Please,
come back inside with me. I think we need to talk a little. You look
so sad and you should be leaving feeling like you have a clean slate.
I want you to feel good about yourself. Come on. I laid a really soft
pillow on your chair.” He gave me a devilish smile.

I
didn't want to but I smiled at him. Then I was crying again. He took
my key and pushed the lock button and then gave it back to me. He
took me by my hand and led me back inside. He let go of me in the
kitchen.

Ryan
turned away from me and stirred whatever he was cooking. I eyed the
chair. He really had put a pillow on it. I looked over my shoulder at
him. He was still stirring and doing this and that. I pulled all my
courage together and sat.

I
made a noise like I had been sucker-punched as I sat down. He must
have heard it but he chose to ignore it. I guess he thought he was
being sensitive.

“
Are
you allergic to anything?” I jumped a little as he spoke so
casually with me.

“
Umm,
no nothing that I know of.” He made up plates and served like was
were in a five star restaurant. He had given me that impression the
first time we met too. I wondered what he did for a living.

The
food was piping hot and it looked good. I usually ordered my food by
telephone. Cooking was always a last ditch effort to avoid getting
sick when I felt a cold coming on. It rarely worked. I had even toyed
with the idea of hiring someone to cook warm meals for me every day.
I needed more vitamins than I was getting.

Ryan
had made, or heated up, a stew and served it over peeled cooked
potatoes. I felt like I was starving as I looked at this food in
front of me. Somehow I felt like crying again. How would he react to
that? I pictured him setting me on his lap again.

I
timidly picked up my fork and took a tiny bite. He was waiting for a
comment. “It's very good. Did you make it yourself?”

“
Yes,
I did. I'm a cook on the side.”

“
On
the side of what?” I asked.

He
smiled and shook his head like I had before. Copycat.

“
You
are a real trained cook?”

“
Yes.
Why does that surprise you?” He was smiling and I was pleased to
see that he was eating, too.

“
I
guess because I'm not a good cook. That isn't true. I'm not
consistent cook.”

“
What
does that mean?”

“
It
means I can't be bothered to cook something every day. I see it as my
job to keep diverse delivery services in business.” I smiled at my
own joke.

He
shook his head and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “You seriously
need me in your life. What do you usually eat?”

“
Umm
– am I in trouble again?” The thought of another spanking was
making me lose my appetite.

“
No,
of course not. I just have a feeling that all you usually do is work
and drink coffee. I want you to feel you are worth better care. Now
tell me what do you usually eat?”

“
Chinese,
Italian all the places that deliver. I don't like taking a break from
work just to eat.”

“
Just
to eat?”

“
Okay,
that was the wrong thing to say. I got it. What do you usually eat?”
I tried to change the topic away from me.

“
I
make myself something different every day. I pay close attention to
varying the foods I eat so I don't eat one sided. Just like everyone
should do.”

With
that the topic was back on me. I was sitting across the table from a
control freak. Was he so perfect that he was in a position to judge
me? Did he never drive too fast, or say something he regretted or
skip a meal?

Ryan
got up and excused himself from the table. He came back a second
later with a green unlabeled book. He had his hand laying on the
book, like it was very important to him, like it was a Gutenberg
Bible. “I want you to write down what you eat and drink.” His
eyebrow raised as he said drink. “I also want you to write down the
times you go to bed and get up in the morning. If you drive while you
are tired, or drive over the speed limit, write that down too.” He
laid the book on my side of the table.

“
You
expect me to cook? Because the way I cook it is healthier to order it
in.”

“
You
make it sound like you are a shut in sometimes. Don't the others also
eat or go on lunch breaks?”

“
I
work from home. I don't have to go in to work very often. I don't
want to answer more questions about what I do.”

“
Is
it legal?”

“
Yes.
In all fifty states.” I smiled at him.

He
beamed back at me. “Good. Just keep your diary and bring it back
next week.”

“
Umm
– I wasn't planning on coming back next week. I'm sure what you –
” I took a deep breath, “did, will hold for a very long time.
Heaven holds a place for me I'm sure.”

He
laughed again. “I want you to come. I'll cook for you again.”

“
Tempting
but, no.”

“
What
part is tempting?”

“
The
food, of course.” I had to smirk at him. At least I was being
honest with him.

“
I'll
just cook and if you show up you show up if you don't I'll have left
overs. But if you do show up please bring your book. Writing in the
book won't be a problem for you will it?”

“
No,
I think I can manage it. You want me to write my sins in here?” I
lifted the cover and peered inside. It was blank lined paper. My name
had been written inside the front cover. He had nice handwriting.

“
How
many women do you have filling out books for you at the moment?”

“
That
is none of your business. I'm just worried about you right now. I
want you to write down what you are up to and that way you can see
for yourself if you want to change your behavior. Remember, no
coffee, and be to bed by ten. No exceptions. Is that clear?”

I
didn't answer him.

“
Do
you already have conflicting plans? I'm not a monster. I understand
about those things. Just tell me now or send me an e-mail, so there
will be no surprises next week.”

“
But
I'm sincerely not coming, ever again.”

“
We'll
see.” He seemed so confident. He continued to eat. I had already
finished my plate and drank my milk. He was drinking red wine. What a
double standard.

“
What
is in this for you?” My eyes were squinting as I narrowed then in
on him.

“
I
like to help people help themselves. Give them that last bit of
motivation that they need. I believe that you are a very strong
person who stands completely behind the product that you sell, but
you need a little incentive to think about yourself too, and to take
proper care of yourself.”

“
So
we are going to sit down and read my diary. And I would get punished
if you read something you don't like. Be honest with yourself, would
you show up knowing that?”

That
had him laughing again. “I won't spank you without your permission.
Didn't I prove that today?”

“
Nevertheless
feel free to make other plans.” I was ready to leave now but he
hadn't finished eating yet. I wished he would, so I could go. We both
knew that he was doing it on purpose.

“
Just
keep the book even if you don't come back.” The idea of my not
coming back was ticking him off. He couldn't hide it anymore. Did he
have a record that I would break if I didn't come back, or was I like
the 25
^th
person he had spanked, or even more?

“
I
have to go before I'm missed.” Again we both knew it was a lie, but
I didn't think he would call me on it.

“
Are
you sure you don't want more?”

I
nodded.

“
I
could pack some up for you to take along that you could have for
lunch tomorrow?”

I
laughed. “Let me guess, you would want the bowl back.”

He
laughed too. “I think I could find something I could spare.” He
jumped right up and started putting food in an old margarine tub. He
piled the food high. What was with this guy? Beat 'em and fed 'em.
Was that his motto?

“
Should
I help you wash up?”

“
No,
that's okay. Thank you for offering but it is probably best for you
to go home and sleep some more. You are feeling alright about driving
home?”

I
nodded.

“
Fish
your keys out now, where you have light.” He waited while I did.

I
was feeling eager to leave now.

“
I'll
bring you to your car. It's pretty dark out tonight.” He looked
worried about my safety. I didn't think that there was anything out
there that was more dangerous than him.

He
opened the door so I could get in. Then handed me his home cooking.
This man was a contradiction in terms. If he ever made a personal add
it would get a lot of people's attention.

A
spanking good cook looking for a naughty eater.

I
smiled thinking that and he smiled back, thinking I had smiled at
him, when in truth I had smiled about him. I laid the food down on
the seat next to me and then he gave me my green book. I wondered if
he had different colors for different women. It seemed likely.

“
Please,
just try it.” He closed my car door and stepped back.

I
drove home and fell into bed, completely exhausted. I got up in the
middle of the night, and checked the damage. I was all red and sore.
I cried again when I saw it. I went back to bed to cry myself to
sleep.

I
woke up at seven the next morning. I made myself some oatmeal. While
I ate, in standing, I recorded when I had gone to bed and when I had
gotten up. Pretty boring stuff.

I
thought of ways to spice my diary up. Normally I would start working
first thing in the morning, booting my computer up while I got my
breakfast. Today I took the time to shower and get dressed before I
started my computer. I piled a couple of pillows on my chair. I felt
like working on my domestic violence book. I wrote until one in the
afternoon. Then I got up and put the food he had given me into the
microwave and heated it up. I ate and reread what I had written
today. It was so much better than what I had written before.

At
four o'clock I decided to go shopping and buy real food. It would be
a good break. Most days I didn't take a break at all. I pushed my
shopping cart around and bought fruit and vegetables. I bought some
chicken and other meat. I went home and actually cooked myself
something healthy.

I
was in bed by nine.

Wednesday
– woke up at seven and made a healthy oatmeal breakfast. Had
leftovers for lunch with water. There was
no
coffee added to
the water to improve the taste. Fruit salad for supper. Bed at nine.